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oo cents. BOOTH'S SERIES OF ACTING PLAYS. No. 4. 

TOM TAYLOR'S 



DRAMA OF 



THE FOOL'S REVENGE 



AS PRODUCED BY 



EDWI N BOOTH 



Adapted from the Text of the Author's Edition, with Introdudlcry Remarks, &c.. 



By henry L. HINTON. 



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4:59 Brootne Street, New York. 



TOM TAYLOR'S 



S'f^ ^- ^ DRAMA OF 



THE FOOL'S REVENGE 



AS PRODUCED BY 



EDWIN BOOTH. 



Adapted from the Text of the Author's Edition, with Introdudlory Remarks, fc?c., 



By henry L. HINTON. 



%■ '^"'-''t^4-^' 



NEW YORK: 
PUBLISHED BY HURD & HOUGHTON, 

459 BROOME STREET. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year i86S, 
By henry L. HINTON, 
In the Clerk's Office of the Distriifl Court of the United States for the 
Southern Distridl of New York. 



/^-3fj// 



INTRODUCTION. 



Tom Taylor, whose name is familiar to the modern play-goer, as the 
writer of many successful works, is the author of The Foots Revenge. His 
claims to originality in the composition of this drama have been much 
questioned, but we shall let the author (or compiler) make his own defense. 
The following is his preface to the first edition of the play : — 

' This drama is in no sense a translation, and ought not, I think, in fair- 
ness, to be called even an adaptation of Viftor Hugo's fine play, 'Le Roi's 
Amuse.' 

' It originated in a request made to me by one of our most popular a£lors, 
to turn the libretto of Rigoletto into a play, as he wished to aft the part 
of the jester. On looking at Viftor Hugo's drama, with this objeft, I 
found so much in it that seemed to me inadmissible on our stags — so much, 
besides, that was wanting in dramatic motive and cohesion, and — I say it 
in all humility — so much that was defedlive in that central secret of stage 
effect, climax, that I determined to take the situation of the jester and his 
daughter, and to recast in my own way the incidents in which their story 
was invested. 

* The death of Galeotto Manfredi at the hands of his wife Francesca 
Bentivoglio is historical. It seemed to me that the atmosphere of a petty 
Italian Court of the Fifteenth Century was well suited, as a medium for 
presenting the jester's wrongs, his rooted purpose of revenge, and the mis- 
carriage of that purpose. 

* I should not have thought it necessary to say thus much, .had not 
some of the newspaper critics talked of my work as a simple translation of 
Vidor Hugo's drama, while others described it, more contemptuously, as a 
mere r'lfaciamcnto of Verdi's libretto. 



w introduction: 

' Those who will take the trouble to compare my work with either of 
its alleged originals, will see that my play is neither translation nor rlfaaa- 
mento. 

' The motives of Bertuccio, the machinery by which his revenge is 
diverted from its intended channel, and the aftion in the court subsequent 
to the carrying off of his daughter, are my own, and I conceive that these 
features give me the fullest right to call the Fool's Revenge a nezu play, 
even if the use of Viftor Hugo's Triboulet and Blanche disentitle it to 
the epithet " original " — which is matter of opinion. 

* For the admirable manner in which the drama is mounted and repre- 
sented at Sadler's Wells, and for the peculiarly powerful impersonation of 
Bertuccio, I owe all gratitude to Mr. Phelps. I must extend that feeling 
also to Miss Heath, Miss Atkinson, and the rest of the Sadler's Wells 
Company engaged in the representation of the Fool's Revenr/e.' 

At the original presentation of this play at Sadler's Wells, London 
(1859), the piece was finely put upon the stage, but the period of adion 
illustrated was one of about fifty years later date than the historical epoch, 
which the play aftually presents, that of the murder of Galeotto Manfredi 
(1488). The piece was very creditably mounted at Niblo's Garden a few 
years since, when Mr. Edwin Booth personated the jester, and Miss Ada 
Clifton, Miss Rose Eytinge, and Miss Mary Wells, contributed to the 
completeness of the cast. 

The present adaptation varies but slightly from the author's copy, one 
transposition being made, and a few lines omitted. The punfluation and 
the stage direftions have been made in unison with the other plays of this 
series, a few superfluous diredions having, however, been omitted. 

COSTUME. 

Ca;sar Vecellio, who, in 1598, published in Venice a work on costume 
intided HaMti Anticlii et Aloderni, gives in volume first, plate seventy- 
nine, a style of costume for women, well suited to this play, and one which 
was very general throughout all Italy at the period of its aftion. ' They 
wore,' he tells us, * the balzo (a rounded head-dress) of various colors, and 
co.mposed of a tissue of gold or of silk, and worked with a representation 
of flowers or other designs. They also carried gold chains, girdles of great 
value, and a fan with a highly ornamented holder. The shoulders were 
covered with a sort of plaited collar or neckerchief (bavero) of linen or 



INTRODUCTION. v 

cambric. The gown was generally of damask, of a crimson or violet color, 
having a lower border, six inches in width. The sleeves were slashed 
and puffed, permitting the chemise to come through. The cuffs, in which 
the arms of the chemise ended, accorded in style with the collar. The 
bodice, when worn, consisted of tissue of gold, and exceeded the ordinary 
length. Sometimes the robe was made so long as to trail on the ground.' 
The male attire at this time accorded with the female; indeed, in some of 
its details it did not differ at all, Vecellio, who has illustrated it (vol. I. plate 
77), says : — 'The men also wore on their heads a ba/zo similar to that of 
the women, made of leather, and round like a diadem ; above this they placed 
a head-dress composed of a tissue of gold or silk. The shirt had a plaited 
bosom and a low ruffled collar. The waist of the coat was short, and the 
skirt reached to the knees j the sleeves were full, and extended to the elbov/ ; 
the shirt-sleeves, which were provided with ruffled cuffs, covered the rest 
of the arm. The coat was ornamented with broad colored bands, made of 
cloth of gold or velvet or other material, according to the means of the 
wearer. The shoes were of velvet, and resembled those of the Germans,' 
The breeches, which are fastened below the knee, were slashed and puffed, and 
the shoes which were treated in a like manner were very broad at the toes. 
Vecellio gives (vol. I. plate 71) a graver style of dress, pecuUar to this 
time, which was sometimes worn over the attire above mentioned. It is 
well suited to the more dignified personages of the drama, consisting as it 
does, of an ample garment, such as is known on the stage by the name of 
* arm-hole-cloak.' This is made of silk or velvet, with a broad turn-over 
collar, sometimes of fur, and extends to the ancles ; it is, however, furnished 
with hanging sleeves which may be worn at pleasure, over those of the 
under dress. The costume of the jester, it is scarcely necessary to say, 
should be of the motley order. Bertuccio is a domestic fool. He holds 
very much the same position under the duke Manfredi, as Touchstone does 
under the duke Frederick. ' The dress of Touchstone,' Mr. Douce 
remarks, 'should be a party-colored garment. He should occasionally 
carry a bauble in his hand, and wear ape's ears to his hood, which is 
probably the head-dress intended by Shakespeare, there being no allusion 
whatever to a cock's head or comb.' 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 

Of this adaptation of The Fool's Re'venge as cast for its first representation at Booth's 
Theatre, New York, , 

Galeotto Manfredi, lord of Faenza 

GuiDO Malatesta, an old condottiere 

BaLDASSARE TORELLI, "l C 

GiAN Maria Ordelaffi, j ' \ . 

Bernardo Ascolti, a Florentine envoy 

Bertuccio, a jester 

Serafino Dell' Aquila, a poet and improvisatore 

Ascanio, a page 

Ginevra, wife to Malatesta 

Francesca Bentivoglio, wife to Manfredi 

FioRDELiSA, daughter to Bertuccio 

Brigitta, servant to Bertuccio 

Chamberlains, Attendants, Servants, &c. 
Scene : Faeoza^ and the Suburbs. 



THE 



FOOL'S REVENGE 



ACT I. 

Scene I, J Loggia opening on the Gardens of Manfredi's Palace in 
the suburbs of Faenza. Moonlight. The gardens and loggia 
illuminated for a feast. Music at a distance. 

Nobles and Ladies moving through the gardens atid loggia. Enter 
AscoLTi, to ToRELLi and Ordelaffi discovered. 

Tor. Messer Bernardo, you shall judge between us, 
Is Ordelaffi's here, a feasting face ? 
I say, 'tis fitter for a funeral. 

Jsc. An Ordelaffi scarce can love the feast 
That greets Octavian Riario, 
Lord of Forli and Imola. 

Ord. Because our line were masters there of old, 
Till they were fools enough to get pulled down ! 
I was born to no lordship but my sword. 
Thanks to my stout black bands, I look to win 
New titles, and so grieve not over lost ones. 
My glove upon 't ! I'll prove a lighter dancer, 
A lustier wooer, and a deeper drinker. 
Than e'er a landed lordling of you all. 
Is it a wager ? 



8 THE FOOL'S RE FENCE. [act i. 

Manfredi and Ginevra pass hy^ Malatesta appears 
watching them. 

Tor. My hand to that ! There 's Malatesta's wife, 
The fair Ginevra. Let 's try lucks with her ? 

Jsc. Ware hawk ! Grey Guido 's an old-fashioned husband ; 
Look how he glares upon the Lord Manfredi, 
Each of his soft words to the fair Ginevra 's 
A dagger in the old fool's heart. 

Ord. Sublime ! ripe sixty wedded to sixteen, 
And thinks to shut the foxes from his grapes ! 

Tor. The duke, too, for his rival ! Poor old man ! 

Jsc. Let the duke look to it. Ginevra's smiles 
May breed him worse foes than Count Malatesta. 
\JVhispering'\ The duchess ! 

Tor. Faith, 'tis ill rousing Bentivoglio blood. 

Ord. And she 's as jealous as her own pet greyhound. 

Tor. And sharper in the teeth. I wonder much 
She leaves Faenza, knowing her Manfredi 
So general a lover. 

Jsc. She leaves Faenza ? 

Tor. So they say : to-morrow 

Rides to Bologna to her grim old father, 
Giovanni Bentivoglio. 

Jsc. To complain 

Of her hot-blooded husband ? 

Tor. Nay, I know not : 

Enough, she goes, and — fair dame as she is — 
A murrain go with her, say L There never 
Was good time in Faenza, since she came 
To spoil sport with her jealousy. Manfredi 
Will be himself again, when she is hence. 

Jsc. Hush ! here she comes — 

Ord. With that misshapen imp 

Bertuccio. Gibing devil ! I shall thrust 



SCENE I.] THE FOODS REVENGE. 9 

My dagger down his throat, one of these days ! 

Tor. Call him a jester ? he laughs vitriol. 

j^sc. Spares nothing ; cracks his random scurril quips 
Upon my master, great Lorenzo's self. 

Ord. Do the knave justice, he 's a king of tongue-fence j 
Not a weak joint in all our armours round. 
But he knows, and can hit. Confound the rogue ! 
I 'm blistered still from a word-basting he 
Gave me but yesterday. Would we were quits ! 

Tor. Wait ! I 've a rod in pickle that shall flay 
The tough hide off his hump. A rare revenge ! 

Jsc. They're here: avoid! 

\_Ascoltt^ Ordelaffi^ and Torell'i mingle luith the Guests. 

Enter Francesca, and BERruccio^foI/ozued by two Attendants. 

Fran. \_Looking off"., as if watching., and to herself^ Still with h.er ! 
changing hot palms and long looks ! 
Her's for the dance, her's at the feast, all her's ! 
Nothing for me but shallow courtesies. 
And hollow coin of compliment that leaves 
The craving heart as empty as a beggar 
Bemocked with counters ! 

Ber. \Counting on his fiyigers and lookijig at the 7noo7i'\ Moon — 
Manfredi — moon ! 

Fran. Ha, knave ! 

Ber. By your leave, Monna Cecca,' I am cyphering. 

Fran. Some fool's sum ? 

Ber. Yes ; running your husband's changes 

Against the moon's. Manfredi has it hollow. 
It comes out ten new loves 'gainst five new moons ! 

Fran. Where do I stand ? 

Ber. First of the ten ; your moon was a whole honey one ; 
Excluding that, it's nine loves to four moons. 

'•Monna,' — Dame, Mistress; diminutive for Madonna. 'Cecca,' — Diminutive 
for Francesca. 

1* 



10 THE FOOVS REVENGE. [act i. 

Fran. You pity me, Bertuccicr? 

Ber. Not a whit ; 

I pity sparrows, but not sparrow-hawks. 

Fran. I read your riddle, — I am strong enough 
To right my own wrongs. So I am, while here. 

Ber. Then stay ! 
j Fran. My father at Bologna looks for me. 

Ber. Then go ! 

Fran. And leave him here — with her — both free. 

And not a friend that I can trust to watch 
And give me due report how things go 'twixt them. 
Had I one friend — 

Ber. You have Bertuccio. 

Fran. Men call you faithless, bitter, loving wrong 
For wrong's sake, Duke Manfredi's worst councillor, 
Still prompting him to evil. 

Ber. How folks flatter ! 

Fran. How, then, am I to trust you ? 

Ber. Monna Cecca, 

You know the wild beasts that your husband keeps 
Down in the castle fosse ? There's a she-leopard 
I lie and gaze at by the hour together ; 
So sleek, so graceful and so dangerous ! 
I long to see her let loose on a man. 
Trust me to draw the bolt, and loose my leopard. 

Fran. I '11 trust your love of mischief, not of me. 

Ber. That 's safest ! 

Fran. I must know how fares this fancy 

Of Duke Manfredi for yon pale Ginevra : 
Mark him and her, their meetings, communings ; 
I know your 're private with my lord. 

Ber. He trusts me ! 

Fran. Here ! take my ring : your letters sealed with this, 
My page Ascanio will bring me straight ; 
'Tis but three hours' hard ridinjz: — and in six 



SCENE I.] THE FOODS REVENGE. ii 

I 'm here again. Mark ! write not on suspicion, 
Let evil thought ripen to evil a6l ; 
That in the full flush of their guilty joys 
I may strike sudden and strike home. 
No Bentivoglio pardons. 

Ber. Have a care ! 

Faenza is Manfredi's. These court-flies, [^Pointing to the Guests. 
Who flutter in the sunshine of his favour, 
Have stings : the pudding-headed citizens 
Love his free ways : he leaves their wives alone — 
You play your own head, touching his. 

Fran. Give me my vengeance. Then come what come may. 
Enough ; I am resolved. Now for the dance ! 
They shall not see a cloud upon my brow. 
Though my heart ache and burn. I can smile too, 
On him and her. Bertuccio, remember ! 

\^Exit Francesca^ followed by her Attendants. 

Ber. \_Looking at the ring^ A blood-stone — apt reminder ! Docs 
she think 
That none but she have wrongs ? That none but she 
Mean to revenge them ? What ? ' No Bentivoglio 
Pardons.' There is a certain vile Bertuccio, 
A twisted, withered, hunch-backed, court buffoon, 
A thing to make mirth, and to be made mirth of, 
A something betwixt ape and man, that claims 
To run in couples with your ladyship. 
You hunt Manfredi, I hunt Malatesta, 
Let's try which of the two has sharper fangs ! 

Manfredi and Ginevra re-appear in the background. 

The duke and Malatesta's wife ! [^Retires. 

\Manfredi and Ginevra come forward., Malatesta watching them. 

Man. Not yet ! but one more round ! The feast is blank 
For me when you are gone. The flowers lack perfume. 
Missing your fragrant breath. The music sounds 



12 THE FOODS REVENGE. [act i. 

Harsh and untunable, when youB» sweet voice 
Makes no more under-melody. O, stay ! 

Gut. I am summoned, sir ; my husband waits for me. 
Alan. What spoil-sports are these husbands \_Jside\ and these 
wives ! 
Per Bacco ! I could wish Count Malatesta 
Would lend my duchess escort to Bologna, 
So we were both well rid. \_Malatesta beckons to Ginevra. 

Gin. Your pardon, sir, 

My husband beckons. It is I, not you. 
Must bear his moods to-night. I dare not stay. 

Man. I would not bring a cloud to your fair brow 
For all Faenza. Fare you well, sweet lady ! 

\_He leads her to Malatesta. 
I render up your jewel, Malatesta ; 
See that you guard it as befits its price. 
Mai. Trust me for that, my lord. 

Man. {To Ginevra^ Sweet dreams wait on you. 

Mai. \_Jside~\ This night sees her safe past Faenza's walls ; 
She 's too fair for this liquorish court of ours. 

\_Exeunt Malatesta and Ginevra. 
Man. A peerless lady ! 

Ber. {Coming forward^ And a churlish spouse ! 

Man. Bertuccio ! 

Ber. ' At your elbow, sir,' quoth Satanus. 

Man. Come, fool, let 's rail at husbands. 
Ber. Shall I call 

Your wife to help us ? 

Man. Out on thee, screech-owl ! 

Just when I felt my chains about to fall 
Thou mind'st me of my jailor. Thank the saints, 
1 shall be free to-morrow, for awhile ; 
I 'm thirsty to employ my liberty. 
Come, my familiar, help me to some mischief; 
Some pleasant deviltry, with just the spice 



SCENE I.] THE FOODS RE FENCE. 13 

Of sin to make the enjoyment exquisite. 

Ber. Let's see, throat-cutting's pleasant, but that's stale; 
Plotting has savour in it, but 'tis too tedious ; 
Say, a campaign with Ordelaffi's band, 
So you may feed all the seven sins at once. 

Man. Out, barren hound ! thy wits are growing dull. 

Ber. A man can't always be finding out new sins ; 
Think, they're as hard to hit on as new pleasures. 
My head on't, Alexander had not run 
So wide a round of pleasures, as you of sins ; 
And yet he offered kingdoms for a new one. 
You must invoke Asmodeus, not Beelzebub. 

Man. What 's he ? 

Ber. The devil specially charged with love ; 

He has more work than all the infernal legion. 
There 's Malatesta's- wife ; she's young, and fair, 
And good, they say ; rare matter for sin there, 
Though 'tis the oldest of them all. 

Man. But show me 

How to win her ! She 's cold as she is fair ; 
I have spent enough sweet speech to have softened stone. 
And all in vain. 

Ber. The monks say Hannibal 

Melted the rocks with vinegar, not sugar. 

Man. But she is adamant ! 

Ber. When all else fails 

You 've still force to fall back on. Carry her off 
From under Guido's grizzled beard. 

Man. By Bacchus, 

There's mettle in thy counsel, knave ! I '11 think on't. 

Ber. It needs no brains neither ; only strong hands 
And hard hearts. Here come both. 

Enter ToRELLi, AscoLTi and Ordelaffi. 
Man. What say you, gentlemen ; may I trust your arms .? 



14 THE FOODS REVENGE. [act i. 

Tor. They 're yours in any quarrel. 

Jsc. So are mine ! 

Ord. And mine ! 

Ber. One at a time. You said ' arms' ; of Torelli 
You should ask legs ; his did such famous service 
In carrying him out of danger at Sarzana, 
I think they may be trusted. \_All laugh except Torelli. 

Tor. Scurril knave, 

But I '11 be even with thee. 

Ber. That were pity. 

A hump would be a sore disfigurement 
Upon a back that you 're so fond of showing ! 

Jsc. This rogue needs gagging. 

Ber. What, for speaking truth ? 

I cry you mercy, I forgot how ugly 
It must sound to a Florentine Ambassador. 

Man. Well thrust, Bertuccio ! 

Ord. My lord, my lord ! 

The slave is paid to find us wit — 

Ber. Hold there. 

No man is bound to impossibilities, 
'Tis a known maxim of the Roman law ; 

How then can I find wit for Ordelaffi ? \_All laugh but Ordelaffi. 
But look, there's Serafino, big with a sonnet: 
I must help him to reason for his rhymes — 

Man. Stay ! 

Ber. Not I ! You 're for finding out new sins ; 

With three such councillors, I am superfluous. 
\_Aside'\ The evil seed is sown ; 'twill grov/, 'twill grow. [Exit. 

Tor. Toad ! 

Jsc. Foul-mouthed scoff'er ! 

Ord. Warped in wit and limb ! 

Jsc. A4y lord, you give your monkey too much rope, 
He'll soon forget all tricks in the scurvy one 
Of making his grinders meet in our soft parts. 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S RE FENCE. 15 

Man. Nay, give the devil his due ; if he hits hard, 
He hits impartially. I take my share 
Of buffets with the rest. Best cure the smart 
By laughing at your neighbour that smarts worse ; 
But about this business, where your arms may help me. 

Jsc. Is it an enemy to be silenced ? 

Ord. A castle 

To be surprised .? A merchant to be squeezed ? 

Jsc. Or aught in which ducats or brains of Florence 
Can help ? 

Man. No. Who was queen of the feast to-night ? 
In your skilled judgement, Messer Gian Maria ? 

Ord. I ought to say your duchess, fair Francesca ; 
But, if another tongue had asked the question— 

Man. Speak out thy honest judgement ! 

Ord. Not a lady 

In all Faenza's worthy to compare 
With proud Ginevra Malatesta ! 

Tor. I think I know a fairer, — but no matter ! 

Man. I hold with Ordelaffi. I have mounted 
Ginevra's colours in my cap, and heart ; 
But she 's too proud, or fearful of old Guido, 
To smile upon my suit. 'Tis the first time 
I 've found so coy a dame. 

Jsc. Trust one who knows them. 

The coyest are not always chastest. 

Man. How say you, if I spared her shame of yielding 
By a night escalade ^. 

Ord. \_Shaking his head] Carry her off? 

A Malatesta ? Were it an enemy's town — 

Man. Hear him ! how modestly he talks ! Why, man, 
Since when shrank'st thou from climbing balconies. 
And forcing doors without an invitation ? 

Ord. O, citizens', I grant you ; but a noble's, 
One of ourselves — 



i6 THE FOODS REVENGE. [act i. 

Asc. Remember, Malatesta 

Is cousin to the old Lord of Cesena : 
The affair might breed a feud, and so let in 
The sly Venetian. 

Tor. Be advised, my lord ; 

If you must breathe your new-fledged liberty, 
Try safer game. Old Malatesta's horns 
Might prove too sharp for pastime. 

Man. Out, you faint hearts, 

Do you fall off? Then, by Saint Francis' bones, 
I and Bertuccio will adventure it. 

Tor. Bertuccio ! My jewel to his hump, 
'Twas he put this mad frolic in your head. 

Man. And if it were ? At least he'll stand by me. 
Perchance his wits may be worth all your brawn. 

Jsc. Here comes one who may claim to be consulted 
Upon this business. 

Enter Malatesta. 

Man. Guido Malatesta ! 

Why, how now, count ? You left our feast so soon, 
I thought you warm i' the sheets this good half-hour. 

Mai. I had forgot my duty to your lordship; 
So now repair my lack of courtesy : 
To-morrow I purpose riding to Cesena, 
And would not go without due leave-taking. 

Man. \_Jside'\ This jumps well with my proje6t. What, to- 
morrow ! 
You ride alone ? 

Mai. No, with my wife. 

Man. {Aide] The devil ! 

Why, this is sudden ; she spoke no word of this 
To-night. 

Mai. Tush ! women know not their own minds, 
How should they know their husbands' .? 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S REVENGE. 17 

Man. But your reason ? 

Mai. Your air here in Faenza is too warm, 
And scarce so pure as fits my wife's complexion ; 
She '11 be better in my castle at Cesena ; 
The walls are five feet thick, and from the platform 
There 's a rare view. She '11 need no exercise. 

Man. \_Jside] The gaoler! [^Jloud] But what says the lady's will? 

Mai. I never ask that ; and so 'scape all risk 
Of finding it run counter to my own. 

Man, Faenza will have great miss of you both. 

Mai. O, fear not, I '11 return ; your wine 's too good 
To be left lightly. I '11 be back to-morrow. 
Before the gates are shut. Meanwhile accept 
This leave-taking by proxy from my wife. 

Man. Not so ; I must exchange farewell with her 
To-morrow. 

Mai. We shall start an hour ere dawn ; 

You'll scarce be stirring. 

Man. \_Jside] Plague upon the churl ! 

He meets me at all points. At least, I hope, 
This absence of your wife will not be long; 
My duchess cannot spare her. \_Jside\ Saints forgive me ! 

Mai. When your fair lady wants her, she can send : 
I '11 answer for her coming on that summons. 
Good night, sweet lords. \_Aside\ How crest-fallen he looks ! 
Mass ! 'tis ill cozening an old condottiere ! 
Did he think I had forgot to guard my baggage ? [^Exit. 

Man. A murrain go with him ! May the horse stumble 
That carries him, and break his old bull-neck ! 
O, this is cruel ; with my hand stretched out, 
To have to draw 't back empty. I could curse ! 

Tor. What if I helped you to a substitute 
For coy Ginevra ? passing her in beauty : 
One, too, whose conquest puts no crown to risk, 
And helps withal a notable requital 



1 8 THE FOODS REVENGE, [act i. 

That we all owe Bertuccio, you included. 

Man. What mean you ? 

Tor. Guess what 's happened to Bertuccio. 

Ord. He 's grown good-natured. 

^sc. Or has dropp'd his hump. 

Man. He has found a monkey uglier than himself. 

Tor. No, something stranger than all these would be. 
If they had happened. He has found a mistress ! [^Jll laugh. 

Alan. My lady's pet baboon ? Bertuccio 
Graced with a mistress ! \_He laughs. 

Asc. She is blind, of course ? 

Ord. And has a hump, I hope, to match his own ? 

Man. Bertuccio with a mistress ! why the rogue 
Ne'er yet made joke so monstrous, or so pleasant. \_All laugh. 

Tor. Laugh as you please, sirs ; on my knightly faith, 
He has a mistress, and a rare one too. 
Nay, if you doubt my word — Here comes Dell' Aquila, 
He knows as well as I. 

Man. We '11 question him. 

Enter Serafino dell' Aquila. 

Man, Good even to my poet — you walk late ! 

Aqu. \_Pointing to the moon'] I tend my mistress : poets and 
lunatics. 
You know, are her liege subjects. 

Man. They are happy. 

Jqu. Why ? 

Man. They have a new mistress every month. 

But jesters can find mistresses, it seems. 
As well as poets. There 's Torelli swears 
Bertuccio has one, and that you know it. 

Aqu. I know he has a rare maid close mewed up, 
But whether wife or daughter — 

Man. Tell not me ! 

A mistress for a thousand ! But what of her ? 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S REVENGE. 19 

How did you find her out ? 

Jqu. 'Twas some weeks since. 

Attending vespers in your house's chapel, 
At San Costanza, I beheld a maiden 
Kneeling before that pi6lure of our lady. 
By Fra Filippo, — O, so fair, so rapt 
In her pure passionate prayers, — I tell you, sirs, 
I was nigh going on my knees beside her. 
And asking for an interest in her orisons : 
Such eyes of softest blue, crowned with such wreaths 
Of glossy chestnut hair, a cheek of snow 
Flushed tenderly, as when the sunlight strikes 
Upon an evening alp, and over all, 
A grace of maiden modesty that lay 
More still and snowy round her than the folds 
Of her white veil. And when she rose I rose 
And followed her like one drawn by a charm 
To a mean house, where entering, she was lost. 

Man. She was alone ? 

Jqu. Only a shrewish servant 

That saw her to the church, and saw her home, 

Mati. A most weak wolf-dog for so choice a lamb ! 

Jqu. Methought, my lord, she needed no more guard 
Than the innocence that sat, dove-like, in her eyes, 
That shaped the folding of her delicate hands. 
And timed the movement of her gentle feet. 

Man. You spoke to her ? 

Jqu. I dared not ; some strange shame 

Put weight upon my tongue. I only watched her, 
And sometimes heard her sing. That was enough, 
j^ Man. Poets are easy satisfied. Well, you watched ? 

Aqu. And then I found that I was not alone 
Upon my nightly post : there were two more ; 
One staid outside, like me, and one went in. 

To?-. True to the letter ! I was the outsider. 



20 THE FOOLS REVENGE. [act i. 

The third, and luckiest, was Bertuccio ! 

Man. The hump-backed hypocrite ! 

Old. The owl that screeched 

The loudest against women ! 

Jsc. But, is 't certain 

That 'twas Bertuccio ? 

Tor. I can swear to that. 

Aqu. And I. 

Jsc. How do you know him ? 

Tor. By his hump, 

His gait ; who could mistake that crab-like walk ? 
I could have knocked my head against the wall 
To think I had been fool enough to trust 
A woman's looks for once. Dell' Aquila, 
I know, holds other faith about the sex. 

Aqu. I would stake life upon her purity ; 
Yet, 'tis past doubt Bertuccio is the man. 
The ugly gaoler of this prisoned bird. 

Man. Why that 's enough to make it a mere duty 
To break her prison-house, and shift her keeping 
To fitter hands, — say mine. I 'm lord of the town, 
None else has right of prison here, but I. 

Aqu. What would you do ? 

Man. First see if she bears out 

Your pi6lure, Serafino ; if she do. 
Be sure I will not wait outside to mark 
Her shadow. Shadows may suit poets ; I 
Want substance. 

Tor. She is for Bertuccio's master. 

Not for Bertuccio. When shall it be ? 

Man. To-morrow. 

I 'm a free man ! Meet me at midnight, here. 

Jqu. You would not harm her ? Only see her face. 
You will not have the heart to do her wrong. 

Man. What call you ' wrong '? To save so choice a creature. 



SCENE I.] THE FOOLS REVENGE. 21 

From such a guardian as Bertuccio ? 

He would have prompted me to play the robber 

Of Malatesta's pearl : let hun guard his own. 

Ord. If he resists, we 'II knock him o'er the sconce ; 
Let me have that part of the business. 

Man. Nay, I 'Id not have the rascal harmed ; he 's bitter, 
But shrewdly witty, and he makes me laugh. 
No, spare me my buffoon : who does him harm. 
Shall answer it to me. 

Tor. 'Twere a rare plot to make the knave believe 
Our scheme still held against old Malatesta : 
That his'Ginevra was the game we followed. 

Ord. So give him a rendezvous a mile away ; 
And, while he waits our coming, to break open 
The mew where he keeps close his tercel gentle. 

Jsc, \_Jside to Manfredi\ Ne'er trust a poet. What if he be- 
tray us ? 

Man. He 's truth itself ; and where he gives his faith, 
'T is better than a bond of your Lorenzo's. 

Asc. Swear him to secrecy. 

Man. \T'o DeWAquila'] Your hand upon it. 

You'll not spoil our sport, by breaking to Bertuccio 
What we intend ? 

Jqu. But think, O, think, my lord, 

What if this were no mistress ; as, if looks 
Have privilege to reveal the soul, she is none ? 

Man. Mistress or maid, man, I will not be baulked ; 
'Tis for her good. I know the sex ; she pines 
In her captivity : I '11 find a cage 
More fitting such a bird as you 've described. 
Your hand on 't : not a whisper to Bertuccio ! 

Aqu. You force me ! There 's my hand, I will not speak 
A word to him ! 

Man. \_Taking his band~\ That's like a trusty liegeman 
Of blind Lord Cupid ? [To the others] Hark, a word with you ! 



22 THE FOOL'S RE FENCE. [act i. 

Jqu. I '11 save her from this wrong, or lose myself. 
What tie there is betwixt these two I know not ; 
How one so fair and seeming gentle's linked 
With one so foul and bitter, — a buffoon, 
Who makes his vile office viler still. 
By prompting to the evil that he mocks. 
But I will 'gage my life that she is pure. 
And still shall be so, if my aid avail ! [^Exit. 

Man. But how to get sight of Bertuccio's jewel ! 
I 'Id see, before I 'Id seize. 

Tor. ^ Trust me for that ! 

I am no poet : When I found the damsel 
Admitted such a gallant as Bertuccio, 
I thought it time to press my suit ; and so 
Accosted her on her way from San Costanza — • 

Alari. She listened ? 

Tor. Long enough — the little fool — 

To learn my meaning ; then she flushed, and fled ; 
I followed, when, as the foul fiend would have it, 
Ginevra Malatesta coming by 
From vespers with her train, sheltered the pigeon, 
And spoiled my chase. 

Man. You did not give it up ? 

Tor. I changed my plan ; the mistress being coy, 
I spread my net to catch the maid. O lord ! 
The veriest Gorgon ! You might swear none e'er 
Had given her chase before ! no coyness there ; 
A small expense of oaths and coin sufficed 
To make her think herself a misprized Venus, 
And me the most discriminating wooer 
In all Faenza. 'Twill not need much art 
For me to win an entrance to the house. 
And when I 'm in, it shall go hard, my lord. 
But I find means to get you access too. 

Man. About it straight ; at dusk to-morrow night 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S REVENGE. 23 

Be here, armed, masked and cloaked. 

Ord. While poor Bertuccio 

Awaits our coming near San Stefano ! 

A stone's throw from the casa Malatesta. 

Jsc. He 's here ! 

Enter Bertuccio. 

Ber. Not yet a-bed ! 

Since when were the fiend's eggs so hard to hatch ? 
I left a pleasant little germ of sin 
Some half an hour since : it should be full-grown 
By this time. Is it ? 

Man. Winged, and hoofed, and tailed. 

If proud Ginevra Malatesta sleep 
To-morrow night beneath old Guide's roof, 
Then call me a snow-water-blooded shaveling. 

Ber. Ha ! 'Tis resolved then ? 

Tor. We have pledged our faith 

To carry ofF the fairest in Faenza — 

Jsc. Before the stroke of midnight. 

Ord. 'Twas my plan 

To gather one by one to the place of a6lIon ; 
Lest, going in a troop, we might awake 
Suspicion, and put Guido on his guard. 

Ber. A wise precaution, although it was yours. 
I wronged you, gentlemen ; I thought you shrunk 
Even from sin, when there was danger in 't. 
It seems there are deeds black enough to make 
Even Torelli brave, Ascolti prompt 
And Ordelaffi witty. But the place? 

Man. Beside San Stefano. 

Ber. The hour of meeting? 

Man. Half an hour after vespers. There await us. 
And now, good rest, my lords ; the night wanes fast. 
My duchess will be weary. [_^ll laugh. 

All. \_Going\ Sir, good night ! 



24 THE FOODS REVENGE. [act ii. 

Ber. Sleep well, Torelli. t)ream of charging home 
In the van of some fierce fight. 

Tor. My common dream. 

Ber. 'Tis natural ; dreams go by contraries. 
And you, Ascolti, dream of telling truth ; 
And, Ordelaffi, that you have grown wise. 

Tor. And, you, that your back's straight, your legs a match, 

Asc. And your tongue tipped with honey. 

Ord. Come, my lords. 

Leave him to spit his venom at the moon. 
As they say toads do ! \_Exeunt all but Bertuccio, laughing. 

Ber. Take my curse among you, 

Fair, false, big, brainless, outside shows of men ; 
For once your gibes and jeers fall pointless from me. 
My great revenge is nigh, and drowns all sense : 
I am straight, and fair, and well-shaped as yourselves ; 
Vengeance swells out my veins, and lifts my head. 
And makes me terrible ! Come, sweet to-morrow. 
And put my enemy's heart into my hand, 
That I may gnaw it ! \_Exit. 



ACT II. 

Scene I. Faenza. A room in Bertuccio'' s house. The walls hung 
with tapestry concealing a small recess and a secret door cominuni- 
cating with the street ; a tuindoiu opening on the street ivith a bal- 
cony ; a statue of the Madonna in a recess with a small lamp 
burning before it ; a missal on a stayid before the statue ; a lute 
and fowers ; a lamp lighted. 

Torelli and Brigitta discovered. 

Bri. Hark, there's the quarter! you must hence, fair signor. 
Tor. But a few moments more of your sweet presence ? 



SCENE I.] THE FOODS REVENGE. 25 

Bri. Saint Ursula, she knows, 'tis not my will 
That drives you hence ; but if my master found 
That I received a man into the house, 
'Twere pity of my place, if not my life. 

Tor. Your master is a churl, that would condemn 
These maiden blooms to wither on the tree. 

Bri. Churl you may call him ! v/hy he 'Id have the house 
A prison. If you heard the coil he keeps * 

Of bolts, and bars and locks ! Lord knows the twitter 
I 've been in all to-day about the key 
I lost this morning ; it unlocks the door 
Of the tufnpike stair that leads down to the street. 

Tor. 'Twas lucky I came by just when you dropt it. 

Bri. Dropt ! nay, signor, 'twas whipped off by some cut-purse, 
That thought to filch my coin. 

Tor. That 's a shrewd guess ! 

He must have flung it from him where I found it, 
Not knowing of what jewel it unlocked 
The casket ! 

Bri. How can I pay your pains that brought it back ! 

Tor. By ever and anon giving me leave 
To come and sun myself in your chaste presence. 

Bri. Alas, sweet signor ! 

Tor. O ! divine Brigitta ! 

Bri. But I must say farewell. Vespers are over ; 
My mistress will be waiting, she 's so fearful. 

Tor. As if her unripe beauties were in danger. 
While your maturer loveliness can walk 
The streets unguarded. 

Bri. Nay, I 'm a poor, fond, thing ; Lord knows the risk 
I run to let you in. 

Tor. I warrant now 

You 've some snug nook where, if your master came, 
You could bestow me at a pinch. 

Bri. I know none, 

2 



26 THE FOODS REVENGE. [act ii. 

Unless 'twere here, \Lifting arras from the recess\ behind the 

arras, look ! 
Here's a hole too, whence you could peep to see 
When the coast 's clear ! 

Tor. \_Aside\ There 's room enough for two. 

Brigitta ! 

Bri. Signor ! 

Tor. How if this had served 

For hiding others before me ? 

Bri. I swear 

By the eleven thousand virgins — 

Tor. That 's 

Too many by ten thousand and nine hundred 
And ninety-nine ! Vouch but your virgin self, 
And I am satisfied ! 

Bri. Alack, a-day ! 

To be suspe61:ed after all these years. 

Tor. Pardon a lover's jealousy ; this kiss 
Shall wipe away the memory of my wrong. 
\_Aside\ What will not loyalty drive a man to ? There ! 

\Kisses her. 

Bri. \_Aside~\ He has the sweetest lips ! And now begone, 
Sweet signor, if you love me. 

Tor. * If,' Brigitta! 

Banish me then to outer darkness straight ! 
Farewell, my full-blown rose ! let others prize 
The opening bud ; the ripe, rich flower for me ! 

Bri. O, the saints, how he talks ! This way, sweet signor. 

\Taking a key from her girdle. 
The secret door 5 the key you found and brought me 
Unlocks it. [ Unlocking secret door. 

Tor. \Taking another from his girdle.^ aside'\ Else, why did I 
filch it from you. 
And have this, its twin brother, forged to-day. 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S REVENGE. 27 

Bri. \_Gett'ing the lamp~\ I 'II light you out, and lock, the door 
behind you, 
'■ Safe bind, safe find.' 

"Tor. Good night, sweet piece of woman, 

I leave my heart in pledge. \_Jside~\ Now for the dulce. 
\_Brigitta holds open the door and lights him doiun^ then locks the door. 

Bri. He 's gone, bless his sweet face ! To think what risks 
Men will run that are lovers, and indeed 
Weak women too ! Lord ! if my master knew. 
*Tis lucky San Costanza is hard by, 
I should be fearful else. Faenza 's full 
Of gallants, and who knows what might befall 
A poor young woman like myself, with nought 
Except her innocence to be her safeguard ! \^Exit. 

As soon as she has closed the door^ the secret door opens^ and Torelli 
re-enters with Manfredi. 

Tor. This way, my lord, the dragon has departed. 

Man. 'Tis time ; I was aweary of my watch. 

Tor. You were alone, at least. Think of my lot, 
That had to make love to a tough old spinster. 
I would we had changed parts. Why, good, my lord, 
I had to kiss her. Faugh ! when shall I get 
The garlic from my beard ? But here 's the cage 
That holds our bird. We must ensconce ourselves, 
For they '11 be here anon j vespers were over 
Before we entered. 

Man. Thanks to your device 

Of the forged key. Yet that was scarcely needed ; 
I 've climbed more break-neck balconies than that 

\_Pointing to wind(,<:':\ 
Without a silken ladder. \_Looking about'] So, a lute, 
A missal, flowers ! more tokens of a maid 
Than of a mistress. Well, so much the better ; 



28 THE FOOLS REVENGE. [act ii. 

I long to see the girl. Is she as fair 
As Serafino painted ? 

Tor. Faith, my lord, 

She 's fair enough to justify more sonnets 
Than e'er fat Petrarch pumped out for his Laura. 
She is a paragon of blushing girlhood, 
Full of temptation to the finger-tips. 
I marvel at myself, that e'er I yielded 
This amorous enterprise, even to you ; 
But that my loyalty outbears my love. 

Man. I will requite your loyalty, fear not ; 
But where shall we bestow ourselves ? 

Tor. \_Liftlng the arras from the recess\ In here ; 

The old crone showed it me but now — there 's cover 
And peeping-place sufficient. Hark ! they come : 
Stand close, my lord. [They retire behind the arras. 

Enter Fiordilisa and Brigitta. 

Bri. And he was there to-night ? 

Fio. O yes ! He offered me the holy water 
As I passed in. I trembled so, Brigitta, 
When our hands met, I fear he must have marked it, 
But that he seemed almost as trembling, too. 
As I was. 

Bri. *He'! a brazen popinjay, 
I '11 warrant me, for all his downcast looks ! 
I wonder how my master would endure 
To hear of such audacious goings on ! 

Fio. That makes me sad. My father Is so kind, 
I cannot bear to have a secret from him. 
Sometimes I feel as I would tell him all ; 
But then, I think, perhaps he would forbid me 
From going out to church ; and 'tis so dull 
To be shut up here all the long bright day : 
From morn till dark to maxk the busy stir 



SCENE I.] THE FOODS REVENGE. 29 

Under the window, and the happy voices 

Of holiday-makers, that go out and in 

Just as they please. Look at the birds, Brigitta ! 

Their wings are free, yet no harm comes to them ; 

I 'm sure they 're innocent ! And then to hear 

Sometimes the trumpets, as the knights ride by. 

And tramp of armed men, sometimes a lute, [y/ lute sounds within. 

Hark, 'tis his lute ! I know the air, how sweet ! 

My good Brigitta, would there be much harm 

If I touched mine — only a little touch — 

To tell him I am listening ? 

Bri. , Holy saints. 

Was e'er such boldness! I must have your lute 
Locked up. These girls ! these girls ! Bar them from court, 
And they'll find matter in church ; keep them from speech, 
And they '11 make cat-gut do the work of tongue ! 
Better be charged to keep a cat from cream. 
Than a girl from gallants ! 

Fio. Nay but, good Brigitta, 

This gentleman is none. 

Bri. How do you know ? 

Fio. He never speaks to me, scarce looks, or if 
He do, it is but to withdraw his ga-ze 
As hastily as I do mine. I 've seen him 
Blush when our eyes met ; not like yon rude man. 
Who pressed upon me with such words and looks, 
As made me blush — you know the time — 
When that kind lady, Countess Malatesta, 
Scarce saved me from his boldness. 

Bri. Tilly-vally ! 

There are more ways of bird-catching than one ; 
He 's the best fowler, who least scares his quarry. 
But I must go and see the supper toward. 
Your father will be here anon. \_Extt, 

Fio. Dear father ! 



30 THE FOOL'S RE FENCE. [act ii. 

Would he were here, that I might rest my head 

Upon his breast, and have his arms about me ; 

For then I feel there's something I may love. 

And not be chidden for it. \_Lute sounds] Hark ! again ! 

If I durst answer ! 

How sad he must be out there in the dark. 

Not knowing if I mark his music. 

[ Takes her lute^ then puts it azvay] No ! 
My father would be angry : sad enough 
To have one joy I may not share with him ; 
Yet there can be no harm in listening. 
I thought to-night he would have spoken to me, 
But then Brigitta came, and he fell back. 
I 'm glad he did not speak, and yet I 'm sorry, 
I should so like to hear his voice, — just once, — ■ 
He comes in my dreams, now, but he never speaks — 
I 'm sure 'tis soft and sweet ! \_Liste7iing~\ His lute is hushed. 
What, if I touched mine, now that he is gone ? 
I must not look out of the casement ! Yes, 
I 'm sure he 's gone ! [Takes her lute and sings.] 

Man. \_Jside^ lifting the arras] She is worth ten Ginevras ! 

Tor. \_Holding him hack] Not yet ! 

Alan. Unhand me, I will speak to her ! 

Tor. My lord ! It is Bertuccio ! In, quick ! 

Bertuccio appears at the door. 

\_His dress is sober and his fnanner composed. He stands for 
a moment at the door fondly contemplating Fiorde- 
lisa; then stepping quietly forward — ' 
Ber. My own ! 
Fio. [ Turning suddenly and flinging herself into his arms — 

My Father ! 
Ber. Closer, closer yet ! 

Let me feel those soft arms about my neck, 
This dear cheek on my heart ! No, do not stir. 



SCENE I.] THE FOODS REVENGE. 31 

It does me so much good ! I am so happy ; 
These minutes are worth years. 

Fio. My own dear father ! 

Ber. Let me look at thee, darling. Why, thou growest 
More and more beautiful ! Thou 'rt happy here ? 
Hast all that thou desirest, thy lute, thy flowers ? 
She loves her poor old father ? Blessings on thee, 
I know thou dost, but tell me so. 

Fio. I love you, 

I love you very much ! I am so happy 
When you are with me. Why do you come so late, 
And go so soon ? Why not stay always here ? 

Ber. Why not ! why not ! O, if I could ! To live 
Where there 's no mocking, and no being mocked, 
No laughter, but what 's innocent ; no mirth 
That leaves an after-bitterness like gall. 

Fio. Now, you are sad ! There 's that black ugly cloud 
Upon your brow ; you promised, the last time. 
It never should come when we were together. 
You know when you 're sad, I 'm sad too. 

Ber. My bird ! 

I 'm selfish even with thee ; let dark thoughts come. 
That thy sweet voice may chase them, as they say 
The blessed church-bells drive the demons off. 

Fio. If I but knew the reason of your sadness, 
Then I might comfort you ; but I know nothing. 
Not even your name. 

Ber. I 'id have no name for thee, 

But ' father.' 

Fio. In the convent, at Cesena 

Where I was rear'd, they used to call me orphan. 
I thought I had no father, till you came. 
And then they needed not to say I had one; 
My own heart told me that. 

Ber. I often think 



32 THE FOOUS B.EVENGE. [act ii. 

I had done well to have left thee there, in the peace 

Of that still cloister. But it was too hard, 

My empty heart so hungered for my child ; 

For those dear eyes that look no scorn for me. 

That voice that speaks respe6l and tenderness, 

Even for me. My dove, my lily-flower. 

My only stay in life. O God ! I thank thee 

That thou hast left me this at least. \He weeps. 

Fio. Dear father ! 

You 're crying now ; you must not cry, you must not, 
I cannot bear to see you cry. 

Ber. Let be! 

'Twere better than to see me laugh. 

Fio. But wherefore ? 

You say you are so happy here, and yet 
You never come but to weep bitter tears. 
And I can but weep too, not knowing why. 
Why are you sad ? O, tell me, tell me all ! 

Ber. I cannot. In this house I am thy father; 
Out of it, what I am boots not to say ; 
Hated, perhaps ; or envied ; feared, I hope. 
By many ; scorned by more, and loved by none. 
In this, one innocent corner of the world 
I w.ould but be to thee a father ; something 
August, and sacred. 

Fio. And you are so, father. 

Ber. I love thee with a love strong as the hate 
I bear for all but thee. Come, sit beside me. 
With thy pure hand in mine, and tell me still, 
' I love you,' and ' I love you,' only that. 
Smile on me — so ! — thy smile is passing sweet ! 
Thy mother used to smile so once. O God ! 
I cannot bear it. Do not smile, it wakes 
Memories that tear my heart-strings. Do not look 
So Uke thy mother, or I shall go mad ! 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S REVENGE. 33 

Fio. O, tell me of my mother ! 

Ber. No, no, no ! 

Fio. She 's dead ? 

Ber. Yes. 

Fio. You were with her when she died ? 

Ber. No ! leave the dead alone, talk of thyself — 
Thy life here. Thou heed'st well my caution, girl, 
Not to go out by day, nor show thyself 
There, at the casement. 

Fio. Yes. Some day, I hope, 

You will take me with you, but to see the town ; 
'Tis so hard to be shut up here, alone. 

Ber. Thou hast not stirred abroad ? 

Fio. Only to vespers ; 

You said I might do that with good Brigitta. 
I never go forth, or come in alone. 

Ber. That 's well. I grieve that thou should'st live so close. 
But if thou knew'st what poison 's in the air. 
What evil walks the streets, how innocence 
Is a temptation, beauty but a bait 
For desperate desires : — no man, I hope, 
Has spoken to thee ? 

Fio. Only one. 

Ber. Ha ! who ? 

Fio. I know not ; 'twas against my will. 

Ber. You gave 

No answer ? 

Fio. No ; I fled. 

Ber. He followed you ? 

Fio. A gracious lady gave me kind protection. 
And bade her train guard me safe home. O father. 
If you had seen how good she was, how gently 
She soothed my fears — for I was sore afraid — 
I 'm sure you ^d love her. 

Ber. Did you learn her name ? 

2* 



34 THE FOOL'S RE FENCE, [act ii. 

Fio. I asked it, first, to set it in my prayers, 
And then, that you might pray for her. 

Ber. Her name ? \_Asidel^ I pray ! 

Fio. The Countess Malatesta. 

Ber. \_J5ide] Count Malatesta's wife protect my child ! 
You have not seen her since ? 

Fio. No ; though she urged me 

So hard to come to her ; and asked my name ; 
And who my parents were ; and where I lived. 

Ber. You did not tell her? 

Fio. Who my parents were ? 

How could I, when I must not know myself? 

Ber. Patience, my darling ; trust thy father's love, 
That there is reason for this mystery ! 
The time may come when we may live in peace, 
And walk together free, under free heaven ; 
But that cannot be here, nor now ! 

Fio. O, when. 

When shall that time arrive ? 

Ber. When what I live for 

Has been achieved. 

Fio. What you live for ? 

Ber. Revenge ! 

Fio. O do not look so, father ! 

Ber. Listen, girl, 

You asked me of your mother ; it is time 
You should know why all questioning of her 
Racks me to madness. Look upon me, child ; 
Misshapen as I am, there once was one. 
Who seeing me despised, mocked, lonely, poor. 
Loved me, I think, most for my misery : 
Thy mother, like thee, just so pure, so sweet. 
I was a public notary in Cesena ; 
Our life was humble, but so happy : thou 
Wert in thy cradle then, and many a night 



SCENE I.] THE FOOLS RETENGE. 35 

Thy mother and I sate hand in hand together, 
Watching thine innocent smiles, and building up 
Long plans of joy to come. 

Fio. Alas ! she died. 

Ber. Died ! There are deaths 'tis comfort to look back on: 
Her's was not such a death. A devil came 
Across our quiet life, and marked her beauty. 
And lusted for her ; and when she scorned his offers. 
Because he was a noble, great and strong, 
He bore her from my side, by force, and after 
I never saw her more : they brought me news 
That she was dead ! 

Fio. ' Ah me ! 

Ber. And I was mad, 

For years and years, and when my wits came back — 
If e'er they came — they brought one haunting purpose. 
That since has shaped my life — to have revenge : 
Revenge upon her wronger and his order ; 
Revenge in kind ; to quit him, wife for wife ! 

Fio. Father, 'tis not for me to question with you : 
But think — revenge belongeth not to man. 
It is God's attribute ; usurp it not ! 

Ber. Preach abstinence to him that dies of hunger. 
Tell the poor wretch who perishes of thirst, 
There's danger in the cup his fingers clutch ; 
But bid me not forswear revenge. No word ! 
Thou know'st now, why I mew thee up so close ; 
Keep thee out of the streets ; shut thee from eyes 
And tongues of lawless men ; for in these day. 
All men are lawless. 'Tis because I fear 
To lose thee, as I lost thy mother. 

Fio. Father, 

I '11 pray for her. 

Ber. Do, and for me ; good night I 

Fio. O, not so soon ; with all these sad dark thoughts, 



36 THE FOOL'S REVENGE. [act ii. 

These bitter memories. You'need my love : 
I '11 touch my kite for you, and sing to it. 
Music, you know, chases all evil angels. 

Ber. I must go : 'tis grave business calls me hence. 
\_Jside\ 'Tis time that I was at my post. My own, 
Sleep in thine innocence. Good night ! good night ! 

Fio. But let me see you to the outer door. 

Ber. Not a step further, then. God guard this place, 
That here my flower may grow, safe from the blight 
Of look, or word impure, a holy thing 
Consecrate to thy service, and my love ! 
\_Exit Bertuccio and F'lordelha. — Manfred'i and Torelli corne forward, 

Man. His daughter ! That so fair a branch should spring 
From such a gnarled and misshapen stock ! 

Tor. But did you mark how he raved of revenge 
Upon our order ? 

Man. By the mass, I think 

That Guido Malatesta is the man 
That played him the shrewd trick he told the girl of. 
'Twas at Cesena, marked you ; the time fits. 
That 's why he hounds m.e on after the countess, 
What ! must I be the tool of his revenge ? 
I '11 teach the scurril slave to strike at nobles ! 

Tor. Hark ! what 's that ? \Lhtening, 

Man. 'Tis outside the window ! 

Tor. \Listening.'\ Yes, 

By Bacchus, some one climbs the balcony ! 

Man. A gallant ? 

Tor. In, sir ; see the play played out. 

Man. But I '11 not be forestalled ! 

Tor. We've time enough. 

[ They retire to the recess. 

Enter Ko^lhKfrom the balcony. 
Aqu. Pardon, sweet saint, if I profane thy shrine. 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S REVENGE. 37 

I watched Bertuccio forth, he passed me close, 
I feared he would have seen me. I have sworn 
Not to betray their foul design to him. 
And to warn her, this means alone is left me. 
Hark ! 'tis her gracious step ; she comes this way. 

Enter Fiordelisa. 

Fio. Comfort of the afflicSled, comfort him ! 
Turn his revengeful purpose to submission, 
And grant that I may grow to take the place 
My mother has left empty in his heart ! 
He 's gone ! And I had not the heart to speak 
Of the young gentleman who follows me. 
He asked if any spoke to me ; I told 
The truth : he never spoke to me. \_Seeing Aquila, 

Who 's there ? 
Brigitta ! help ! 

Aqu, Silence! but have no fear; 

I am not here to harm you, do not tremble. 
I would die, lady, rather than offend you. 

Fio. O sir, how came you here ? 

Aqu. I knew no other way 

But by the balcony. Desperate occasions 
Dispense with ceremony. My respe6l 
Is absolute. P'ear not : I am not here 
To say ' I love you,' nor to tell you how 
For months your face has been my beacon star. 
My passion never would have found a tongue, 
It is too reverent : but your safety, lady, 
I can be bold for that. 

Fio. My safety ! 

Aqu. Threatened 

With desperate danger. Think you one so fair 
Could even pray in safety in Faenza ? 
You have been seen : your beauty hath been buzzed 



38 THE FOODS REVENGE, [act ii. 

In the court's amorous ear : there is a proje6l 
To scale your balcony to-night. 

Fio. O father ! 

Jqu. He cannot save you ; what were his sole strength 
Against the bravos that the duke commands, 
For any deed of ill. My arm and sword 
Are stronger than your father's, and are yours 
As absolutely. And yet what were these ? 
I could die for you, but I could not save you. 

Fio. What shall I do ? 

Jqu. Have you no friends, protedlors 

To whom you might betake yourself? 

Fio. Alas ! 

I am a stranger here. 

^qu. Think, have you none ? 

Fio. Ha ! if the Countess Malatesta — 
. Jqu. What ? 

You know her? 

Fio. She once rescued me from insult 

Of a rude man ; and promised help whene'er 
I chose to seek it. 

Jqu. She is good, and pure, 

And powerful moreover — that 's the chief. 
Go to her straight ; you have no time to lose. 
Midnight is fixed for their foul enterprise. 

Fio. But how to find the house ? And then the streets 
Are dark and dangerous. I've but our servant, 
Brigitta — 

Jqu. Not a word to her ! She 's false. 
Can you trust me ? I '11 lead you to the countess. 

Fio. [^Asidi\ Were this a stratagem ! 

Jqu. I see you doubt me, 

I know you have good cause to doubt all men. 
O, could I bare my heart, and show you there 
Your image set amongst its holiest thoughts, 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S REVENGE. 39 

Beside my mother's well-remembered face : 

Could truth speak with the tongue, look from the eyes, 

You would not doubt me. What can oaths avail ? 

He who could cheat you, would not fear to cheat 

God and his saints ! Lady, it is the truth 

That I have spoken ! May heaven give you faith 

To trust in me ; but if not, I will stay, 

And die in your defence. 

Fio. Sir, I will trust you, 

And heaven so deal with you, as you with me. 
Go with me to the Countess Malatesta, 
I 'II seek the shelter of her roof to-night, 
To-morrow must bring counsel for the future. 

Jqu. O, bless you for this trust ! Come, quick, but softly. 
Put on your veil, fear not, I am your guard. 
Your slave, your sentinel. I crave no guerdon, 
Not even a look ! Enough for me to save you. 

\_Exeunt Fiordelisa and DeW Aqu'ila. 

Man. \_Breaking from behind the arras^ Torelli folloiv'uig hitn. 
Why did you hold me back? Ourproje6l's marred. 
This moonstruck poet bears away the prize. 
And I am fooled. 

Tor. Nay ; trust my cooler brain. 

I '11 follow him to Malatesta's. Sure 
He '11 give her shelter ? 

Man. In his lady's absence ? 

Tor. Even so. The old ruffian can be courteous 
Vi'hen there 's a pretty face in question ! 

Man. Let him ! 

I 'Jl break his house, or any man's that dares 
Set his locks in the way of my good pleasure ! 

Tor. Why not ? 'Twill give a double pungency 
To our revenge upon Bertuccio. 
We only looked to keep the foul-mouthed knave 
Out of the way while we bore ofF his pearl ; 



40 THE FOODS REVENGE. [act ii. 

But now we '11 use him for the robbery. 
He shall see us scale Malatesta's windows ; 
But she whom we bear thence, muffled and gagged, 
Shall be the hunch-backed scoffer's pretty daughter. 
Man. A rare revenge ! and so this brain-sick poet 
And my curst jester may console each other. 
Watch them to Malatesta's ; I 'U to our friends, 
And find Bertuccio by San Stefano. \_Exit by secret door. 



Scene II. The same. A street near the Church of San Stefano. 

Enter Bertuccio, masked and cloaked. 

Ber. The hour has struck, they will be here anon ; 
Trust them to keep tryst for a villanous deed. 
I had need to whet the memory of my wrong, 
Or my girl's angel face, and innocent tongue 
Had shaken even my steadfastness of purpose. 
And Malatesta's wife has done her kindness : 
I would that she had not ! But what 's such slight service 
To my huge wrong ? Let me but think of that ! 
I grow too human near my child ; I lack 
The sharp sting of court scorn to spur the sides 
Of my intent. With her I 'm free to weep j 
With them, I still must laugh, still be their ape 
To mop, and mow, and wake their shallow mirth. 
True, I can sometimes bite, as monkeys do. 
They'll make mirth of that too ! O, courtly sirs ! 
Sweet-spoken, stalwart gallants ! if you knew 
The hate that rankles underneath my motley. 
The scorn that barbs my wit, the bitterness 
That grins behind my laughter, you would start. 
And shudder o'er your cups, and cross yourselves 
As if the devil were in your company. 
Once my revenge achieved, I '11 spurn my chain, 



SCENE II.] THE FOODS REVENGE. \S 

Fool it no more, but give what 's left of life 
To thought of her I 've lost, and love of her 
That yet is left me. 

Enter Manfredi, Ascolti and Ordelaffi, masked and cloaked, 

Man. Hist, Bertuccio ! 

Ber. Here, gossip Galeotto ; you are punctual : 
Ascolti too. Grave Signor Florentine, 
We 'U show you how the gallants of Faenza 
Treat greybeards who aspire to handsome wives. 
Remember your beard's grizzled, and beware. 

Asc. } will stand warned. You have the ladders here? 

Ber. The lackeys wait in charge of them hard by. 
But where 's Torelli ? we shall want his help. 

Ord. Pshaw ! our three swords are plenty. 

Ber. Cry you mercy ! 

'Tis not Torelli's sword we want. 

Ord. What then ? 

Ber. His marvellous quick scent of danger, man. 
Stick to his skirts, I'll answer for't, you're safe. 
Perhaps he smelt some risk of buffets here 
And so has ta'en him home to bed. 

Man. Away 

Towards Malatesta's house ; 'twas there he promised 
To meet us. Sirrah fool, be it thy post 
To hold the ladder while we mount ; and see 
Thou play'st us no jade's trick, or 'ware the whip ! 

Ber. Fear not, magnanimous gossip ; do your work 
With as good will as I do mine. The countess 
Sleeps in the chamber of the balcony. 
Which rounds the angle of the southern front ; 
I came but now by the palace : all was quiet. 

Alan. Set on then, cautiously : use not your swords 
Unless on strong compulsion ; blood tells tales, 
And 1 want no more feuds upon my hands. 



40 



THE FOOL'S RE FENCE. [act ii. 



Scene III. The same. Exterior of Malatcstd's Palace. A zu'in- 
dow on the second fioor^ ivith a balcony. 

Enter Fiordelisa and Dell' Aqvila^ /allowed by Torelli at a 

distance. 

Aqu. Be of good cheer, this is the house ; I'll knock 
And summon forth the count. \Knocks. 

Fio. O sir ! what thanks 

Can e'er repay this kindness ? 

Aqu. But remember 

Who 'twas that did it, I am thanked enough. 

Fio. I '11 pray for you, after my father. Hark ! 

Aqu. They come ! 

Enter a Servant _/>•(?;« house. 

Two strangers who crave instant speech 
Of the Count Malatesta. \_Exit Servant. 

Aqu. And should I see your father ? 

Fio. Then you know him ? 

Aqu. Yes. 

Fio. And his business, occupations ? \_He bows. 

*Tis more than I do, sir, that am his child. 
I do not even know his name. 

Aqu. What he 

Keeps secret from you 'tis not mine to tell ; 
'Twere well you should not question him too closely : 
He shall learn you are safe. 

Fio. And tell him, too. 

That 'twas you saved me, sir. Promise me that. 

Enter Malatesta. 

Mai. Who is it would have speech of Malatesta ? 

Aqu. You know me, count ? 

Mai. Deir Aquila, well met ? 

But your companion ? \_Aside~\ Ha ! a petticoat ! 
So ho, my poet I 



SCENE III.] rHE FOODS REVENGE 1»5 

Jqu. Pardon, if I pray 

This lady's name may rest a secret, count ; 
She is in grievous danger ; one from which 
Your house can shelter her. She owes already 
Your countess much, for good help given at need, 
So craves to increase the debt. 

Mai. My house is hers, 

But she should know my countess is not here. 

Fio. Not here ! 

Mai. But if she dare trust my grey hairs 

She shall have shelter. 

Jqii. Nay, she cannot choose. 

Mai. 1 '11 give her my wife's chamber, if she will ; 
Her woman to attend her. 

Jqu. All she needs 

Is your roof's shelter for the night ; to-morrow 
Must see her otherwise bestowed. 

Mai. Go in 

Fair lady ; my poor house, with all that 's in it 
Is at your service. Had my wife been here, 
You had had gentler tendance ; as it is 
I 'II lead you to her chamber, and there leave you. 

Tor. \_Jside] Now to the hunters : I 've marked down the deer, 

[Exit. 

Mai, [To Jquila~\ You will not stay and crush a cup with me ? 

Jqu. No, not to-night. [To Fiordelisa^ Did you not well to 
trust me ? 
Farewell ; think of me in your prayers. 

Fio. I cannot 

Choose but do that, sir. \_Jside\ O, the thought of him 
Will come, henceforth, betwixt my prayers and heaven ! 

\_Exit Malatcsta^ leading in Fiordelisa, 

Aqu. His child ! Since when did grapes grow upon thistles ? 
And yet I 'm glad to know the tie that binds 
The two together such a holy one. 



40f THE FOOLS REVENNGE. [act ii. 

Sweet angel, sister angels guard thy sleep ! 

Now, to seek out Bertuccio, and tell him 

The danger she has 'scaped, and thank the saints 

That made me her preserver. \_Exlt. 

Enter Bertuccio, Manfredi, Ascolti, Ordelaffi, and To- 
RELLi, tv'ith Servants carrying ladders. 

Man. Softly, you knaves ! With velvet tread, like tigers ! 

Ber. Say rather, ' cats.' \_J light appears at the window. 

Tor. Which is the balcony ? 

Ber. That. I have noted in this summer weather 
The window 's left unbarred. 

Jsc. Ha, there 's a light ! 

If she were stirring ? 

Ber. What, an' if she were ? 

A sudden spring — a cloak flung o'er her head — 
If she have time to scream, you are but bunglers. 

Alan. My cloak will serve. [Takes it off". 

Asc. If she alarm the house 

It might go hard with us. 

Ber. O cats that long 

For fish, yet fear to wet your feet ! I '11 shame you. 
Let me mount first. Give me your cloak, Galeotto ! 

Man. By your leave, fool, I '11 net my own bird. Back ! 
Hold thou the ladder ; that is lacqueys' work, 
And fits thee best. Ascolti and Torelli, 
Guard the approaches ! I and Ordelaffi 
Will be enough to mount, and snare the game. 

\The light is extinguished ; the Servants set a ladder to the balcony. 

Ber. [Holds it'] All 's dark now. Up ! 

Alan. Why, rogue, how thy hand shakes ! 

Is 't fear ? 

Ber. 'Tis inward laughter, Galeotto. 
To think how blank Guido will look to-morrow 



SCENE III.] THE FOODS REVENGE. 45 

To find the nest cold, and his mate borne off ! 

[^Manfredi mounts the ladder^ followed by Ordelaffj ; they enter. 

Ber. \_Listening~\ Ha ! they are in by this time. Cautious fools ! 
I had done 't myself in half the space ! So, Guido, 
You love your young wife well, they say ; that 's brave. 
Manfredi and Ordelaffi re-appear on the balcony^ bcarhig FiOR- 

DELISA in their arms^ muffled in Manfredi'' s cloak ; she struggles^ 

but cannot scream ; they come down the ladder. 

Ber. 'Tis done! 

Man. Away all ; to my garden house, 

There to bestow our prize ! 

\_Exeunt all but Bertuccio , the Servants^ carrying off the ladder. 

Ber. Now, Malatesta, 

Learn what it is to wake, and find her gone 
That was the pride and joy of your dim eyes, 
The comfort of your age. I welcome you 
To the blank hearth, the hunger of the soul, 
The long dark days, and miserable nights. 
These you gave me ; I give them back to you. 
I, the despised, deformed, dishonoured jester. 
Have reached up to your crown, and pulled it down, 
And flung it in the mire as you flung mine. 
Now, murdered innocent, thou art avenged ! 
I cannot sleep. I'll walk the night away. 
It is no night for me, my day has come. \frhe curtain falls. 



ACT III. 

Scene I. Manfredi's Garden-house. A Room with folding doors 
at the back., communicating with an inner chamber^ and side en- 
trances., covered by curtains. 

Enter Fiordelisa. 
Fio. Where am I ? What has happened ? Let me think. 



46 THE FOOL'S REFENGE. [act hi. 

Those men — that blinding veil — the fresh night air. 
That struck upon my face — then a wild struggle, 
In strong and mastering arms — then a long blank. 
I must have fainted ; when I woke I lay- 
On a rich couch in that room. Has he brought me 
Into the very danger that he said 
He came to take me from ? O cruel ! No, 
Falsehood could ne'er have found such words, such looks. 
Father! O, when he comes and finds me gone ! 
I must go hence ! \_Looking roi02d~\ That door — ■\_She runs to side 

entrance'] 'tis locked ! \_Shaking door'] Help ! help ! 
How dare they draw their bolts on me ? My father 
Shall punish them for this ! I will go forth ! 

\_Shakes door again } the door opens fro7n within. 
At last ! Whoe'er you are, sir, help me hence ! 

Enter Manfredi. 

Take me back to my father I He will bless you. 
Reward you — 

Man. Nay, your own lips must do that. 

Fio. O, they shall bless you too, sir. 

Man. To be blessed 

With that sweet mouth were well, yet scarce enough. 

Fio. O sir, we waste time. Set what price you will 
On the great service, I am sure my father 
Will pay you. \_Ma7tfredi relocks the door, 

Man. If we 're to discuss your ransom 

'Twere fairest we should do it with closed doors, 
The terms can scarce be settled, till you know 
Your prison — gaoler — in what risk you stand. 
First, for your prison : know you where you are ? 

Fio. No. 

Man. In the Duke Manfredi's palace. Next : 
Know you your gaoler ? 

Fio. Who ? 



SCENE I.] THE FOODS REVENGE. 47 

Man. Manfredl's self. 

Fio. Woe 's me ! 

Alan. What ? Is the news so terrible ? 

Fio. I 've heard Brigitta and my father, too, 
Speak of the Duke Manfredi. 

Alan. [^Aside~\ Here's a chance 

To hear a genuine judgement of myself! 
They said — 

Fio. That he was cruel, bold, unsated 

In thirst for evil pleasures ; it was odds 
Whether more feared, or hated, in Faenza. 

Adan. \_Jside] Trust the crowd's garlic cheers, and greasy caps ! 
The knaves shall know me worse ere they have done. 
I thank you, pretty one ; I am the duke. 

Fio. Then heaven have mercy on me ! 

Alan. If report 

Speak truth, your prayer were idle ; but report 
Is a sad liar. Do I look the ogre 
They painted to you ? Nay, my fluttered dove. 
Smooth but those ruffled feathers ; look about you. 
Is this so grim a dungeon ? Was your couch 
Last night so hard, your 'tendance so ungentle ? 
I am your prisoner, fairest, not you mine. 

Fio. Then let me go. 

Adan. Not till you know at least. 

What you will lose by going. All Faenza 
Is mine, and she I favour may command 
Whate'er Faenza holds of wealth or pleasure j 
I '11 pour them at her feet, and after fling 
Myself there too, to woo a gracious word. 
What 's life, ungraced by love ? a dismal sky 
Without sun, moon, or starlight ! 'Tis a cup 
Drained of the wine that reddened in its gold, 
A lute shorn of its strings, a table stripped 
Of all its festal meats, mere life in death. 



48 THE FOOLS RE FENCE. [act iii. 

A jewel like thy beauty is not meet 

To be shut in a chest ; it should be set 

To shine in princely robes, to grace a crown. 

I would set thee in mine. \_Approaching her 

Flo. Stand back, my lord. 

Man. Why, little fool, I would not harm a hair 
On thy fair head. Think what thy life has been, 
How dull, and dark, and dreary ! It shall be 
As bright, and glad, and sunny, as the prime 
Of summer flowers. Only repel not joy 
Because it comes borne in the hand of Love. 

Fio. O, you profane that name ! Is love the friend 
Of night, and violence and robbery ? 
Let me go hence, I say. I have a father 
Who '11 make you terribly abye this wrong, 
Lord as you are ! 

Man. Your father ! By the mass. 

She makes me laugh ! Your father, girl ! • Bertuccio ! 

Flo. That I should learn my father's name from him ! 
Yes, duke, my father ! 

Man. Why, he is my slave, 

A thing that crouches to me like my hound, 
To beg for food, or deprecate the lash, 
My butt, my whipping-block, my fool in motley. 

Flo. It is not true. This is a lie, like all 
That you have said. Let me go forth, I say. 

Man. You 're in my palace. Here are none but those 
To whom my will is law ; your calls for help 
Will only bring more force — if I could stoop 
To use force with a lady. 

Flo. Then you have 

Some manhood in you. Look, sir, at us two : 
You are a duke, you say ; your power but bounded 
By your own will. I am a poor weak girl. 
E'en weaker than I knew, if what you say 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S RE FENCE. 49 

Touching my father, be the truth. What honour 
Is to be won on me ? Yet, won it may be, 
By yielding to my prayers to be set free. 
To be sent home. O, let me but go hence, 
As I came hither ; I will speak to none 
Of this night's outrage ; even to my father. 

Man. Ask anything but this. 

Fio. Nothing but this ! 

You have a wife, my lord; what if she knew? 

Man. The more need to take care that you tell her not. 
Come, little one, give up these swelling looks, 
Though they become you mightily. [Jpproaching her. 

Fio. Stand off! 

[He pursues her^ she jiies] Help! help! [Running to the folding door. 
A door ! ha ! [She forces It open^ and rushes In. 

Man. [Locking it outside^ Deeper in the toils ! 

[Laughs'] The lamb seeks shelter in the wolf's own den ! 

Tor. [Out side] My lord ! 

Man. [ Unlocks the door] Torelli's voice ! how now, Torelli ? 

Enter Torelli. 

Tor. My lord, the duchess is returned. 

Man. Why, man, 

Thy news is stale ; the duchess has been here 
These five hours ; she arrived, post haste, ere sunrise. 
She must have ridden in the dark. 'Twas that 
Prevented me from making earlier matins 
Before my little saint here. 

Tor. Do you know 

What brought the duchess back so suddenly ? 

Man. Some jealous fancy pricked her, as I judge 
From her accost when we encountered first ; 
And, as I gathered, she suspeils contrivance 
Betwixt me and the Countess Malatesta. 
'Twas a relief, for once, that I could twit her 
3 



50 THE FOOUS REVENGE. [act hi. 

With groundless fears. I fold her Malatesta 
Rode yesterday with his lady to Cesena, 
And, for more proof, repeated what he said, 
That on my wife's least summons, she 'Id return ; 
So she has summoned her, in hopes, no doubt, 
To catch me in a lie. Her messenger 
Rode to Cesena, just at daybreak. Soon 
We may look for him back, bringing, I hope, 
Ginevra Malatesta. 

Tor. This is rare. 

So falls she ofFthe scent, and leaves you here 
To follow up your game with Fiordelisa. 

Man. Even so. I excused me from her presence 
By work of state, for which to this pavilion 
I had summoned you and the Envoy of Florence, 
Said work of state being no less a one 
Than to lend me your presence at the banquet 
I mean to offer our fair prisoner. 
Bid Ordelaffi and Ascolti hither, 

And send my men with fruits and wines and sweetmeats, 
A.11 that is likeliest to tempt the sense 
Of this scared bird. 

Tor. How did you find her, sir ? 

Man. Beating her pretty wings against the bars ; 
Still calling for her father. Shrewdly minded 
To peck, instead of kissing, silly fledgling ! 
But I will tame her yet, till she shall come 
To perch upon my finger. 

Tor. Where is she ? 

Man. In the inner room, whither she fled but now. 
Fear not, I turned the key on her ; she's safe. 

Tor. I '11 send what you command, and warn the rest 
That you attend them. Good speed to your wooing. \_Ex'it» 

Man. Now for my prisoner ! By gentle means 
To gain her ear. Asmodeus, tip my tongue 



SCENE I.] THE FOODS REVENGE. 51 

With love's persuasion ! \JLxit into inner room. 

Enter the DucHESs Francesca masked^ and Bertuccio, who has 
resumed his fool's dress. 

Fra. \JJnmaski7ig\ Was't not Torelli went hence, even now ? 

Ber. I think it was. Be sure he saw us not. 

Fra. Then you still bear me out, my husband lies ? 
That Malatesta's wife has not gone hence ? 

Ber. Trust a fool's eyes before a husband's tongue . 
I say again, I was at hand last night 
When your lord bore from Malatesta's house 
Said Malatesta's wife. I saw the deed. 
I heaTd the order given to bring her hither. 

Fra. Then 'twas by force, not by the lady's will. 
She came ? 

Ber. Force ? Quotha — force ! How many ladies 
Have had to bless the ' force ' that saved their tongue 
An awkward * yes.' See you not what an answer 
' Force ' finds for all ? It stops a husband's mouth ; 
Crams its fist down the town's throat ; nay ; at a pinch 
Perks its sufficient self in a wife's face: 
Commend me still to ' force.' It saves more credits 
Than e'er it ruined virtues. After folly, 
I hold force the best mask that wit has found 
To mock the world with ! 

Fra. There 's weight in that. 

This violence would stand her in good stead, 
Were she e'er called in question ! Then what matter, 

\Bertuccio^ who has been moving round the room^ stops opposite 
folding doors. 
So I be wronged, if 'tis by force, or will. 
Would I had certain proof ! 

Ber. Ha ! You want proof ? 

Come here ; [The Duchess approaches him. 

Stand where I stand. Now listen — close. 



52 THE FOOLS REVENGE. [act hi. 

Fra. [^Listening at door] My husband's voice in passionate en- 
treaty ! 

Ber. Only his voice ? 

Fra. An answering voice ! a woman's! 

These are your state affairs, my gracious duke ! 

Ber. If you would have more proof, I'll bring you where 
You shall hear his humble tools in last night's business 
Discuss the deed ; all noble gentlemen. 
Who 'Id pluck my hood about my ears if I 
Durst hint a doubt of their veracity. 

Fra. Do so, and if they bear thy story out 
I know my part. 

Ber. What, tears ? 

Fra. Tears ? Death to both. 

Ber. Take care. His guards are faithful. Can you trust 
A hand to do the deed ? 

Fra. I trust my own. 

Ber. Women turn pale at blood. Your heart may fail you, 
When the time comes to strike. 

Fra. Daggers for men. 

I know a surer weapon. 

Ber. [Whispering] Poison ? 

Fra. Hush ! 

The Borgia's physician gave it me ! 
It may be trusted ! 

Ber. [Jside~\ My she leopard's loosed at last! [Exit. 

Fra. [Still at the door^ listening.] 
Past doubt, a woman's tongue ! And now my husband's ! 
How well I know the soft, smooth, pleading voice j 
The voice that drew my young heart to my lips 
When, at my father's court, I plighted troth 
To him, and he to me. O bitterness ! 
Now spurned for each new leman of the hour! 
O, he shall learn how terrible is hate 
That grows of love abused. [ Taking a vial from her bosom. 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S RE FENCE. 53 

Come, bosom friend. 
That hast lain cold, of late, against my heart, 
As if to whisper to it, ' Be thou stone, 
When the time calls for me.' \_Looking at the vial. 

Each drop's a death. 
What matter who she be? Enough for me 
That she usurps the place that should be mine 
In Galeotto's love. Hark ! some one comes. 

[^She conceals the vial^ and resumes her mask. 

Enter two Chamberlains zvith white wands., followed hy Attendants 
bearing a banquet., and pass into the inner room. After them a 
Paige with wine in a golden flagon., goblets^ fruit^i^fc, on a salver. 

\_Stopping the Page'\ Hold, sir, set down your charge. 

Page. By your leave, madam, 

*Tis for my lord. 

Fra. Since when was that an answer 

To give thy lady ? [Ilemoves her mask. 

Page. [Jsidel 'Tis the duchess ! Pardon ; 
I knew you not. 

Fra. Enough, sir, set it down. 

And wait without till I bid thee bear in. \_Exit Page. 

What need of further proof? Is 't heaven or hell 
That sends this apt occasion ? Galeotto, 
I warned thee in the spring-time of our loves, 
This hand could kill as easy as caress ; 
You laughed, and took it in your ampler palm, 
And said that death were pleasant from such white 
And taper fingers. Try it now ! 

\She pours some of the contents of the vial into the flagons of wine, 

'Tis done ! 

Re-enter Bertuccio. 

Ber. Hide, here. Madonna : here their lordships come ! 
I met them on the way, so brave and merry. 



54 THE FOOL'S REVENGE. [act in. 

My gossip Galeotto bids them here — 

Xo feast with him and her ! \_Exit. 

\_Francesca starts as if stung •, then goes to the door and beckons. 

Ke-ejiter Page ,• she signs to him s he bears in the zvine. 

Fra. [yiside^ Their doom is sealed ! 

\_She retires behind curtains. 

Re-enter Bertuccio, with Ascolti and Ordelaffi. 

Ber. It is your due ; you that go out bat-fowling 
Lack wine o' mornings to keep up your hearts. 

Ord. Why thou wert there knave ; yet try thou to enter 
Into the presence, and they'll whip thee back ; 
His highness wants no fool to-day ! 

Ber. That's true. 

With you two for his company. But tell me, 
How will the lady relish o'er her wine, 
The cut-throat faces that she saw last night ? 
Methinks 'twill mar her appetite. 

Jsc. Be sure 

She will not look so scared at us, 
As thou wouldst at the sight of her. 

Ber. Who, I ? 

Nay, I but held the ladder : we, poor knaves. 
Must take the leavings of your rogueries. 
As of your feasts. But prithee, Ordelaffi, 
How looked she ? 

Ord. Wouldst believe it ? 

Methought she had a something of thy favour ; 
As, if so crook'd a thing could have a daughter, 
Thy daughter might have had. \_All laugh ■, Bertuccio starts. 

Asc. How now ! he winces. 

There cannot, sure, be issue of thy blood ! 
Nature 's too merciful ; she broke the mould 
When she turned thee out ! 



SCENE I.] THE FOODS REVENGE. 55 

Ber. Nature, sir, proportions 

Her witty fools to her dull ones ; while she makes 
Ascoltis, she must needs produce Bertuccios 
To sting their hard hides now and then. But tell me. 
Think you Ginevra needed all that force ? 

Ord. She struggled stoutly ; but a lady's struggles, 
I take it, are much like her ' no,' which often 
Must be read, ' yes.' 

Jsc. Let 's in at once, my lords. 

Ber. I '11 marshal you ; who said that cap and bells 
Should be shut out ? 

Jsc. Stand back. Sir Fool, 'twere best ; 

You may repent your pressing on too far. 

Ber. I fain would see the lady ; 'tis not often 
That one can carry a beauty off at night, 
And make her lauo;h i' the mornino;. 

Ord. Neither she. 

Nor you, I think, are like to breed much mirth 
Out of each other. 

Ber. Say you so ? Here goes ! \_He runs up to the door — 

"^rhe Page opens it and motions him back \ the tiuo Chamberlains 
appearing at the open door. 

Why, how now, sirrah ? I 'm the fool ! 

Page. Stand back ! 

Ber. I ! why I 'm free o' the palace ; every place 
Except the council-chamber, and in that 
I sit by proxy ! 

Page. 'Tis the duke's stri6l order 

You enter not this room. \_Bertuccio is pressing forward.^ Back! 

or the grooms 
Shall score thy hunch to motley. [^He closes the door. 

Asc. How now, sirrah. 

Call you this marshalling ? 

Ber. I am rio;ht served ! 



56 THE FOOL'S REVENGE. [act hi. 

I forgot that fools in silks should take precedence 
Of fools in motley ! Lead the way, my lords ! 

Ord. Look, here comes Malatesta. 

Ber. Ha ! but stay 

To hear me gird at him ! You call me bitter j 
Now you shall see how merciful I've been. 

Jsc. Waste not your ears on him, the duke awaits us 
Beside his beauty — metal more attractive 
Than this curst word-catcher. 

Ord. Aye, aye, let's in. 

[ExeuTit Ordelaffi and Ascolti. 

Enter Francesca. 

Ber, Now, now, Madonna, have you proof enough ? 

Fra, Mountains of proof on proof, if proof were needed j 
But had disproof come with them, and not proof, 
' Tis all too late. 

Ber. How ? 

Fra. I have drugged their wine. 

They will sleep sound to-night. \She retires up stage. 

Ber. \Aside'\ Choose woman's hands. 

You that would have grim work nimbly despatched. 
Here 's Malatesta ! — looking black as night. 
So, lord, I hope you liked your waking news. 
Now, now, to gloat over his agony ! 

Enter Malatesta. 

Mai. Ha, knaves ! I 'Id see the duchess. 
Ber. Marvellous ! 

Mai. How now ? 

Ber. To think, that they can make such caps 

To hide all trace of them. 

Mai. Of what, knave 1 

Ber. Horns. 

Mai. Rascal! 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S RE FENCE. S7 

Ber. I hope your lordship had good rest ; 

And that my lady, too, slept undisturbed. 

Alal. What mean you, sirrah ? 

Ber. Nay, strain not so hard 

To keep it down ; you are among friends here. 
A grievous loss, no doubt, — but at your age 
You could scarce look to keep her to yourself. 
Others have lost wives, too, — poor knaves who thought 
To stick in their thrurn-caps jewels that caught 
The eyes of nobles; needs were they must yield 
Daughters — or wives. 

Mai. Art mad, or drunk, or both ? 

My errand's to thy mistress, not to thee. 
Where is she ? 

Fra. \_Coming forward^ Here, my lord ! [They talk apart. 

Ber. He bears it bravely. 

But wounds will bleed under an iron corslet ; 
And how his must be bleeding — for he loved her ; 
The whole court vouches it. 

[France sea and Malatesta come forward. 

Fra. You say your lady slept not here, last night, 
But at Cesena ? 

Mai. Or the devil's in't. 

I saw her safe bestowed there : I can trust 
My own eyes, or still better, my own bolts. 

Ber. \Aside'\ Is this old man, too, of Manfredi's council, 
To cheat his wife r 

Mai. I little thought to bring her back so soon ; 
But, on your summons, I have straight recalled her. 

Ber. And she is here : hold him to that. Madonna, 

Mai. Malapert dog ! 

Fra. Pardon his licensed tongue. 

I fain would see the lady. 

Mai. You shall see her ; 

I have not far to fetch her. [Exit 



58 THE FOODS REVENGE. [act hi. 

Ber. 'Tis a lie ! — 

A cursed lie, to hide his own foul shame ! 
Believe him not ! 

Fra. But if he bring the lady ? 

Ber. Aye, if he bring the lady, then believe him ! 
\^Jside~\ He robs me of my right, taking his wrong 
With outward show of calm. Mine turned my brain. 
I looked to see him mad, or drive him so ! 

Man. \_fVithh{\ More wine, knave ! 

A Page passes through for wine. 

Fra. Ginevra, or another, what of that ? 
The wrong's the same, why not the same revenge? 

Ber. The same to you, but not the same to me ! 
I tell you Malatesta's wife sits yonder — 
Sits at your husband's side. I saw her — I — 
Borne off last night ! I saw. There is no faith 
In eyes or ears or truth, if 'twere not she ! 

Re-enter Malatesta, with Ginevra. Bertuccio's back is towards 

the door. 

Mai. Madam, my wife ! 

Ber. [Turning] Ginevra here ! then who 

Was that they carried from her bed last night ? 
Who is 't sits yonder ? 

Fra. Tell me, gracious lady, 

Where did you sleep last night ? 

Gin. Where I scarce thought 

To leave so soon, your highness ; in Cesena, 
Within my husband's castle. 

Fra. Pardon, madam. 

That I have set you on a hurried journey, 
Still more that I have wronged you in my thoughts ! 

[Laughter heard within. 
[Aside'] They laugh ! laugh on, my lord, while it is time. 



SCENE I.] THE FOODS REVENGE. 59 

Gin. Wilt please you grant me audience : you shall hear 
To the minute how my hours went yesterday, 
Down to this moment. 

Fra. Come out in the air ; 

I stifle within hearing of their mirth. 
\_To Bertuccio] Stay here ! see that the other 'scape me not. 

\^Exeunt Francesco and Ginevra. 

Ber. The other! Not Ginevra? [To Af^?/^/-?^/^] Good, my lord, 
Your wife slept at Cesena, yet her chamber 
Was not untenanted last night, I '11 swear ! 

Mai. And so thou mightst, yet break no oath. 

Ber. Who slept in 't ? 

Mai. I know not. Ask Dell' Aquila : 'twas he 
Brought me the lady, craving shelter for her 
From some great danger. 

Ber. But you saw her face ? 

Mai. And if I did, think'st thou I 'Id trust her name 
To thy ass-ears ? \Exit, 

Ber. Fooled, mocked of my revenge ! 

The sweetest morsel on't whipt from my teeth ! 
O, I could brain myself with my own bauble ! 

Enter Dell' Aquila. 

[Jside] Deir Aquila ! He knows. 

j^qu. Well met, Bertuccio ; 

I 've sought thee since this morning, nay, since midnight. 

Ber. Ha! 

Jqu. For a matter much concerns thy peace. 

Thou hast a daughter. [^Bertuccio starts.'] How I know thou hast 
Matters not to my story. 

Ber. Hush, hush, hush I 

If you know this, as you are Christian man 
And poet, — poets should have softer hearts 
Than courts and camps breed now-a-days, — O keep 
The knowledge to yourself ! 



6o THE FOOL'S REVENGE. [act hi. 

Jqu. It is too late 

Torelli knew it j had set wolfish eyes 
On her — 

Ber. • Well ? well ? 

y^qu. Had rung her beauty's praise 

Here in the court — thou hast no friends here — 

Ber. Well ? 

j^qu. They plotted how to lure thee from the house ; 
And in thy absence, to surprise her window, 
And bear her off! They bound me by an oath 
To keep it secret from thee, not from her. 
I swore to save her, or to lose myself; 
So I found a desperate means of speech with her. 
And warned her of her danger. 

Ber. Thanks, thanks, thanks, 

But only warned her ! 

Jqu. Placed her too in safety. 

Ber. O heaven ! where ? 

Jqu. In the house of Malatesta. 

Ber. My child in Malatesta's house last night ! 

Jqu. Secure ; even in the countess's own chamber. 

Ber. My child ! My child ! — wronged, murdered ! 

Jqu. Ha ! by whom ? 

Ber. By me, by me ! Her father, her own father. 
That would have grasped heaven's vengeance, and have drawn 
The bolt on my own head — and her's — and her's ! 

Jqu. What do you mean ? 

Ber. I counselled the undoing 

Of Malatesta's wife ; I stood and watched. 
And laughed for joy, and held the ladder for them, 
And all the while, 'twas my own innocent child. 
Look not so scared, 'tis true ! — I am not mad ! 
She 's here — now — in their clutches ! \_Laughter within. 

Hark, they laugh ! 
*Tis the hyenas o'er their prey — my child ! 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S REFENGE. 6i 

And I stand here and cannot lift a hand ! 

Jqu. Here 's mine, and my sword too ! 

Ber. O, what were that 

Against their felon blades ? 

Jqu. True, true ! what aid ? 

Ha ! there 's the duchess ! 

Ber. I had forgotten her ! 

\_Drawing Aqu'ila to him and whispering. 
Man, she has drugged their wine, the bony Death 
Plays cupbearer to them ; if she drinks, she dies. 

Enter a Page with wine. 

Look, look. Perchance, that is the very wine. 

\H.e assumes the Fool's manner. 
Halt there, for the fool's toll. No wine goes in 
But pays the fool's toll. 

Page. Out, knave, stand aside ! 

[^Bertuccio overthroius the JIagon from the salver. 

Ber. 'Tis forfeit by the law ! 

Page. Thy back shall bleed 

To make it up. Now must I go fetch more, 
And brook the cellarer's chiding for thy folly. 

Enter Torelli. • 

Ber. [T'o Jquila'] If he goes in, could we but enter with him, 
A word of mine might save her from the poison. 

\^Gets between Torelli and the door. 

Tor. Good day. Sir Poet ; stand aside, Sir Fool. 

Ber. You are going in ? 

Tor. Aye. 

Ber. There 's a shrewd hiatus 

Needs filling at the table. You have War 
And Love, but lacking Poetry and Folly, 
War is but butchery, and Love goes lame. 
Tuck us beneath your wings, sweet Baldassare, 



62 THE FOODS REVENGE. [act hi. 

And you '11 be trebly welcome. 

\_Sei%i7ig hhn by one arm ; motions DeW Aqu'ila to take the other. 

Tor. The duke for once has shut his doors against 
Both Poetry and Folly. He is cloistered 
For grave affairs. 

Ber. Tush, tell me not, sweet gossip. 

Why, man, I know that there 's a petticoat ; 
And more, I know the wearer. 

Tor. Thou ! 

Ber. You've lost 

The rarest sport. Ascolti and Ordelaffi 
Have had their will of me. For once I '11 own 
You 've turned the tables fairly on the fool ! 
That our Ginevra should be Fiordelisa, 
And poor Bertuccio riot know! Ha, ha! 

excellent ! It was a sleight of hand 

1 shall remember to my dying day. 

Tor. Nay, an thou tak'st it so. 

Ber. How should I take it ? 

Besides the pleasantness of it, there's the honour. 
Think, my poor daughter in the duke's high favour. 
Why, there are counts by scores, had pawned their scutcheons 
To come into such grace. I warrant now. 
You thought I 'Id swear, and storm, and rend you all, 
So shut me out. But, lo you, I am merry, 
And so shall she be, if you'll let me in ! 

But let me in, I'll school the silly wench ; ^ 

Teach her what honour she has come to ; thank I 

The gracious duke, and play the merriest antics. 

You '11 swear you never saw me in such fooling ; j 

But take me in. f 

Tor. Why now ; the fool's grown wise ! 

I '11 tell the duke, perchance he '11 let thee in. \Ex'it. 

[^Bertuccio^ exhausted by his emotions^ falls into a chair ^ and 
writhes convulsively. 



SCENE I.] THE FOOL'S REVENGE. 63 

Jqu. Lives hang on minutes here. Said you the duchess 
Had mixed the poison, or but meant to mix it ? 

Ber. There it is, man, I know not which. Even now 
Death may be busy at her Hps. Once in, 
In my mad antics, I might spurn the board. 
And spill the flagons as I did e'en now ; 
But h^re I'm helpless. O Beelzebub! 
Inspire them with desire to see a father 
Make laughter of the undoing of his child! 
Ha! some one comes. They'll let me in ! 

Tor. [^Jt the door] The duke 

Will hone of thy ape's tricks. 

[i/i? closes the door. Bertucc'io wrings his hands and screams. 

Aqu, What ho ! Torelli ! 

And you within, you, my lord duke, 'fore all, 
I do proclaim you cowards, ruffians, beasts. 
■Come out, if you be men, and drive my challenge 
Back in my throat, if you 've one heart among you ! 

Ber. You speak to men ; they're fiends ! 

Aqu. No hope, no hope I 

Yes I here's the duchess, she's a woman still. 

Enter Francesca, Ginevra, and Malatesta, 

Ber. Madam, and you, too j [To Ginevra] plotting your un- 
doing, 
I 've compassed the destruilion of my child, 
The daughter that I loved more than my life. 
'Twas she they seized last night, and she's in there. 

All. Your child ? 

Ber. Look, Guido Malatesta, I am he 
Whose wife, long years ago, you stole from him ; 
I am Antonio Bordiga I 

Mai. You ? 

Ber. I thirsted for revenge, for that I wrought 
Upon the duke to carry off your wife ; 



64 THE FOOL'S REVENGE. [act hi. 

Your innocent Ginevra ; seeking that, 

See to what verge of terrible disaster 

I've brought my own dear daughter. 

[71? Francesco] From death, if not wrong worse than death, 

You still may save her. Have the doors burst open. 

You can command here, next the duke. If not. 

At least \_A5ide to her] forbear the poison. 

Fra. \_Js'ide to hinf] 'Tis too late 

The wine was here. 

Ber. Then this alone remains. 

\^He rushes up to the door and shouts. 
Come forth, my lords ! The duke's life, all your lives 
Hang by a thread. Come forth, all ! For your lives ! 

Enter Torelli, Ascolti, and Ordelaffi. 
Your wine is poisoned ! 

Tor. Ha! Who did the deed? 

Ber. I ! drink not, for your lives ! 

\_They are rushing upon h'tm^ drawing their swords. 
Fra. He lies ! 'Twas I ! 

\_A shriek within. 
Ber. My child ! my child ! 

Tor. \lVho has turned hack at the 

sound^ fiinging the door wide open'] Look to the duke, my lords ! 

Manfredi is seen senseless on his seat., Torelli, Ascolti, and 
Ordelaffi supporting him., and Fiordelisa lying at his feet. 

\_Bertuccio and DeW Aquila rush up 10 Fiordelisa. Alalatesta 
and Ginevra exeunt. 
Ber. Too late ! Too late ! 
Tor. He 's dead ! 

Fra. Before all men, 

I '11 answer this ! 

Bet. Before heaven's judgement-seat. 

How shall I answer this ? [^Pointing to Fiordelisa. 



SCENE I.] THE FOODS REVENGE. 65 

\_Deir Aquila has brought Flordelisa forward. Bertuccio takes 
her in his arms. 

Dead ! dead ! My bird — 
My lily flower — gone to thy last account, 
All sinless- as thou wert ? My fool's revenge, 
Ends but in this. Cold ! cold ! [^Putting his hand on her heart. 

Ha ! Yes ! a beat ! 
A breath ! A full deep breath ! She lives ! she lives ! 
Say some of you, ' She drank not,' and I'll bless 
The rr>an that says so ; yea, so pray for him 
As saints ne'er prayed ! She breathes — still. Hark ! hark ! 

/vo.» Father! 

Tor. She never drank ! Thou hast her pure as when 
She kissed thy lips last night ! 

Ber. O, bless you, bless you ? 

She lives, lives, lives ! Leave us to pray together. 

Tor. [To Francesca'] Madam, you are our prisoner ; the duke 
Lies foully murdered. 

Fra. Ha ! what call you ' foully ?' 

Who but myself can estimate my wrongs ? 
For those who stand, like him, past reach of justice, 
Vengeance takes Justice's sharp sword. 
My father, Giovanni Bentivoglio 

Stands at your gates, in arms ! Let who will, question 
Francesca Bentivoglio of this deed ! 

Fio. Father, let's pray for her ! 

Ber. For her ! — for me ! 

We need it both ! Ah, thou said'st well, my child ; 
Vengeance is not man's attribute, but heaven's. 
I have usurped it. Pray — oh, pray for me. [^The curtain/alls* 



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